"Aphrodite," I say, breathing hard. My heart pounds much too fast. The liquor clouds my thoughts.

"Aphrodite," I say again. "Imagine if you were," I search for the words to express my thoughts. "If you were, say, blind, or paralyzed. There would be no other men sniffing around and I would be the one to take care of you, to love you. I'm the only one, you see, who wouldn't immediately abandon or desert you. I wouldn't hurt you, eto pravda. You'd depend on me, quite literally, for your survival. Tell me, is it too much to ask that you love me like this, in this way that I love you?" (I wouldn't hurt you, this is true.)

Aphrodite is silent. I can hear my heart beat in my ears. Her face says it all.

"Da," I scoff. "Da, otvet ya pod dulom pistoleta," I mimic her. "That is what you said before, yes?" I try to control my breathing. "I swear to you, this is different. You are to make the choice, and I will accept that." ('Yes, yes,' I answer under the muzzle of a gun.)

Aphrodite sighs, and rises from the chair. She leaves me on kneeling on the floor as she moves towards the window and pulls aside the curtain. Her face is lit up by the moonlight, and her flesh seems like cold marble. 

"No, Marko," she says. "I cannot allow this again. Ti pyan. Idi domoi. You get reckless." (You are drunk. Go home.)

I rise from my position on the floor and move towards the desk. The bottle of whiskey stands empty. "Do you not want to sit here, saying nothing, until dawn breaks and birds begin to twitter?"

Aphrodite laughs. "The mistake you make, dorogoy, is that you no sooner see a young woman in this room, a stranger, than you start thinking of a story you've been through before. Correct?" Aphrodite turns to face me, and her features are a darkened silhouette against the open window. (The mistake you make, darling, is that...)

"A stranger?"

"You think you know me, because every time you meet me, you make the same mistake. I want you to go."

"Seychas dva chasa nochi, are you honestly expecting somebody?" (It is two in the morning...)

Aphrodite scoffs. "You men are terrible, you know. You almost always misunderstand a woman sooner or later. All men, almost all, are a bore, even intelligent men like you. No sooner are there just the two of us than you get secretive and nervous, and suddenly all you can think is, 'ana molodaya zenschina' and heaven knows what else. No sooner am I alone with you at dva chasa nochi and you must profess your undying love. You cannot imagine, and, yet, at the same time you are like a timid little schenok, frightened like a baby. Especially intellectuals like you." (... all you can think is, ' she is a young woman', and heaven knows ... I am alone with you at two in the morning and you must ... you are like a timid little puppy, frightened like a baby.)

I can feel my hands shake. "Aphrodite, you must - "

"Net, Marko. I want a life of my own. I am not looking for a man who thinks I cannot live without him and who buys a pistolet when he see one day that I can live without him. I want you to go home." (No, Marko ... who buys a pistol when he ...)

"Net, Aphrodite," I mimic her, "you do not understand the rules of the game. You have permission to choose again, but with the intelligence you have. That is a given fact." (No, Aphrodite.)

Aphrodite rolls her eyes. "Pozaluysta, Vashe Veliche, but I have already made my choice. Ostavte menya." (Please, Your Eminence, but I have already made my choice. Leave me now.)

"Esli vy nastaivayete," I mutter, and make my way to the door. (If you insist.) 

Aphrodite is looking out the window again, and the moonlight seems fainter. I close the door, and resolve to return tomorrow.